


when you tell me you love me, I really melt

by djjdkim



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, College, M/M, Professor Jongdae, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djjdkim/pseuds/djjdkim
Summary: Mr Kim Jongdae is a university professor, and a Music Theory and History of Music lecturer.Minseok is the student who finds far too much enjoyment listening to the recordings of Jongdae's lectures.





	when you tell me you love me, I really melt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comebaekhome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebaekhome/gifts).



> BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR COMEBAEKHOME MY FAVOURITE SWEET BUB BIRTHDAY FIC EXCHANGE YES
> 
> **Age gap! (6 years)  
> ** non-canon ages! (Jongdae is older than Minseok)

Music theory. How it all began.

Admittedly, when Minseok first enrolled himself in the course at the beginning of the year and noticed the name ‘Professor Kim Jongdae’ under the Music theory and History of Music classes, he thought nothing of it. Now, this name is the one word that doesn't stop flowing out of Minseok’s mouth at some ungodly hour into the night with his bedroom door locked and his hands down his own pants.

The first time he had attended Professor Kim’s lecture on the first day back at University, Minseok was ready to sleep through all the disgusting Music theory-- he hadn't had his morning coffee, Luhan wanted to play soccer until like 10 pm the night before, and Minseok had to run to catch his train that morning. But the moment the lecturer walked in, Minseok is suddenly thanking whatever gods are watching over him that he chose this course and did end up coming to the lecture.

Professor Kim is by no means tall, but the short sleeve button up he's wearing beautifully shows off arms that look like they belong to a professional basketball player rather than a music lecturer. He looked smart and yet not too stiff, with simple black jeans and converse, unlike the other professors who donned themselves in stifling suits and ties. Minseok had just been appreciating Professor Kim’s hair, a beautiful deep black that flops down over his forehead, when the man clears his throat and addresses his students, and that marks the beginning of Minseok’s gradual insanity.

 

***

 

Minseok jerks his head up, glancing around wildly at all his friends, their eyes on him.

“Sorry,” he laughs awkwardly. “What were we talking about?”

“Sehun was just being bitter that he has no boyfriend to jerk him off so he has to use Porn Hub to help him,” Baekhyun pipes dismissively, curled up into Chanyeol’s side.

The small boy’s boyfriend, a ridiculously tall and lanky guy with a curious mop of orange bed hair, snorts in a very unattractive way.

“So Luhan decided to very nicely share with us his own… coping mechanisms as a single Pringle and now it's your turn!” Baekhyun turns this sickeningly sweet smile on the eldest in the group and Minseok's insides lurch (but that's not actually Baekhyun’s fault).

Minseok’s mind chooses that moment to take him on a journey back to midnight the night before, his own hand wrapped around his dick, sitting on his desk chair with the light of his laptop illuminating his face in the otherwise pitch black room, a man's strong, smooth voice talking about music history in his ears.

“Um.” Minseok squeaks, the back of his neck rapidly growing red. “I think I'll pass thanks.”

Throughout Baekhyun pouting that he's so old he's not fun anymore Minseok grips the seat of the dodgy cafeteria plastic chairs and mentally drowns himself in Holy water.

“I need a good view,” was what Minseok said quickly, leaving his friends at lunch.

“What, for your music history lecture?” Sehun had stared at him.

“Yes?”

“It's only because Minseok hyung has a thing for the lecturer,” Baekhyun had said between mouthfuls of some kind of pizza? Apparently Chanyeol had made it for his lunch the night before, and although Baekhyun claims he's actually quite a cook, Minseok isn't sure he'll ever be ready to try it himself.

Minseok had gone red under the scrutinising looks from the rest of the group. “Of course I dont, isn't that weird?”

Is it weird?

 

 

 

Minseok drops himself into an annoyingly hard chair, entire body tense and eager for another beautifully delivered lecture by Professor Kim.

The lecturer is literally the only thing that keeps him going in the theory lessons-- the music lecture halls are relatively small, with hard as fuck seats, the mic barely works (but that's okay because Minseok takes his time to go through the audio in the privacy of his home), and the laser pointer is missing somehow, and Professor Kim can only work one of the two projectors on most days. And yet Minseok has a feeling no other lecturer will ever make him feel so alive in an 8 AM music theory or music history lecture.

And yet again, Minseok’s enraptured, with every word that leaves the man's mouth, sitting on the edge of his seat as the lecturer simply throws out some dates and notable musicians and pieces. It's kind of unexplainable-- Minseok finds the changing tones in the man's voice fascinating. He loves it when the professor tells little stories, and when he gets a bit sidetracked and too into the content. At those times, his professionalism cracks a little bit, and Minseok high key wants to live off of Mr Kim’s flustered smile.

Half way through this lecture, about the origins of music, Minseok just manages to catch himself with his jaw hanging open, and quickly wipes his chin to check for drool. He refocuses on the smoothness of Mr Kim’s voice, how sometimes he raises it to a high pitch, clear and sharp, and other times it's low and velvety--

Mr Kim hums a little, and Minseok’s breath catches on the reverberations in the lecturer’s throat.

Yes, sometimes the lecturer sings out some notes in demonstration and they're moments that are bad for Minseok’s health, considering how his heart prefers to jump out of his ribcage and into his throat. It's not his fault the man sings with the sweetest, gentlest voice.

Minseok glances up at what Mr Kim is now pointing out (using the mouse on the computer because the laser pointer is gone, yet again. Mr Kim had pouted a little bit this morning when he couldn't find it, and Minseok wanted to kill himself).

The other day the pointer was actually there and Mr Kim screeched a little bit when he saw it and Minseok’s ear drums and heart simultaneously exploded. What an experience.

When Kyungsoo, who shares Minseok’s music classes (but never comes to the lectures anymore because Minseok doesn't stop smacking his arm when Professor Kim does anything) first glanced at him with a raised brow, asking “wait are you attracted to the lecturer?” Minseok blew it off immediately.

“What the fuck, Soo,” he had laughed. “No way. I just like his voice. He has a really nice soothing voice doesn't he?”

Kyungsoo had just nodded and turned back to the lecture.

It's just that, Minseok tells himself.

 

 

***

 

 

Considering all of the above, with Minseok drooling over his lecturer during class, and Minseok jacking off to his lecturer after class, the boy is ridiculously determined to get those top grades.

Perhaps that’s why Minseok is actually getting impeccable attendance to classes and a beautiful record of marks in the History of Music course.

Yes Minseok writes perfect, neat notes for every lecture, but he still thinks that the only way he actually remembers the content is how Mr Kim explains everything brilliantly, relating to his students with pop culture references, anecdotes and detailed examples.

And also puns, music puns, which other students think are horrendous, but Minseok finds them cute, only because Mr Kim looks so pleased with himself every time he cracks one.

“Um are you sure?” Chanyeol has an eyebrow raised at him. “You laugh at his music puns. I don’t think you’re making a very convincing case for yourself considering _you laugh at his music puns_.”

“Look, at least they’re better than the dad jokes Sehun’s literature professor tells. Professor Jongdae himself even says that Professor Joonmyeon’s dad jokes are terrible.”

“Hyung I doubt you’ll be able to keep up the denial for much longer,” Baekhyun chimes, latching onto Chanyeol’s very long arm.

 

 

That day eventually came.

Professor Jongdae walks in, and Kyungsoo had turned in alarm at a bang next to him, and Minseok was cradling his knee with his hands, ogling the lecturer with his mouth open.

The minute Minseok noticed Mr Kim wearing tight black jeans, just a little ripped at the knees, his entire body jerked wildly—it’s too much. The way the tight fabric hugs his legs a little too tight, the ripped area showing off his knees—it’s all too much. Perhaps Minseok has just… exploded, because his blood is pumped through his arteries really goddamn fast, and his brain is going into panicked overdrive.

Blindly, Minseok grabs Kyungsoo by the fabric of his shirt, close to sobbing. “KYUNGSOO DO YOU SEE THAT? WHY IS HE WEARING THAT? WHY AM I LIKE THIS WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?”

Kyungsoo lets out an unappreciative snicker, rolling his eyes at him. “Do I care?”

“Okay but SOO LISTEN—”

“Hyung I swear to fucking God, if you don’t shut up about his jeans.”

“BUT KYUNGSOO--”

“I will actually throw you out of the nearest window.”

However, Professor Jongdae is done clipping his mic on. “Good afternoon everyone, today I’ll be going over the use of tonality as a musical technique and how it shapes the effects produced. As a recap of last week—”

“OKAY KYUNGSOO SHUT UP,” Minseok whisper-shouts into Kyungsoo’s ear, attention once again stolen by the professor once he began lecturing. “GOD IS SPEAKING.”

Kyungsoo flattens the collar of his shirt upon being released from Minseok’s clutches. “Maybe you can shut up so the rest of us can listen for once, goddamn.”

Throughout the entire lecture, Minseok’s eyes stay resolutely on Professor Jongdae’s thighs, beautifully wrapped in black skinny jeans.

 

 _Fuck_ , was his only thought, back against a bathroom stall and hand stroking his cock after he parted ways with Kyungsoo. Fuck.

“Fuck”, he groans quietly, rolling his hips into his own hand, quickening the pace.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, sinking to the tiled floor, reaching for the toilet paper to wipe the sticky mess covering his palms.

 

***

 

This isn’t right. Minseok groans, lying face down on his bed after multiple nights of neglecting note-writing and studying. He reaches for his phone on his night stand, and it only takes a few rings for the person on the other side to pick up.

“Hello? Minseok hyung?”

“Yixing,” Minseok breathes. “Hi. How are you?”

“You mean aside from experiencing an unexpected wake up call at 2 in the morning?” Yixing yawns, and Minseok pulls his phone back from his ear to check the time with a gasp. “I’m doing okay. You?”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry about that, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“No I’m awake already, it’s okay. What’s up hyung?”

Minseok sighs, dread and strange mixtures of emotion swirling around ominously in his chest, weighing down the words he mutters next. “Okay I’m asking you because you’re a decent person and I trust your judgement. And I trust you won’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. Spill.”

“What… what do you think about teacher-student relationships?”

Yixing takes a moment to answer.

“High school or…?”

“God forbid no— Okay what if I-- told you I had the hots for a professor. At college.”

And yet again, Yixing silently ponders the question, the static in Minseok’s ear sounding a whole lot like the thudding of his heart. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the skin.

“It’s not so much of a big deal? At a certain point, age differences become less of an issue. If a 14 year old and 20 year old were dating, that’s completely different to a 24 year old and 30 year old. Do you see what I mean?” Minseok hums a little. “Is this Professor Kim Jongdae? The music lecturer?”

Minseok splutters, face turning a rapid pink. “W-who told you that??”

“From Sehun to Baekhyun to Chanyeol to Kyungsoo, surprisingly, most people have told me that. Are you turned on by his voice?”

Minseok doesn’t do a stellar job at swallowing, and explodes in a bout of coughing.

Yixing doesn’t seem fazed, continuing at his ambling pace. “It’s not that weird, I know a lot of female students swoon over him. He’s a popular professor, for good reason.”

 

***

 

Minseok is screaming.

Luhan, his roommate, comes storming into his bedroom, half a shoe on and clearly half-way out the door before he heard Minseok’s shrieking.

“Minseok?? What happened?? What—”

Luhan moves forward, quickly reading through the email open on Minseok’s laptop screen.

 

_Hello phD students,_

_This is informing you that I have selected you to work with me as first-year Music practical tutors. Tutors will be in charge of running 2 hour practical classes based off content I covered in the lectures but put to real-life practice. This is a paid job, and require the level of expertise that phD students have. Please feel free to contact me if you are interested, and I will allocate you a teaching time table._

_Cheers,_

_Kim Jongdae, Professor of Music Theory and History of Music._

 

Minseok is still screaming.

“Okay, okay no this is a great opportunity!” Luhan quickly grabs Minseok’s shoulders, swivelling him around in his chair. “Do it! DO IT! You get to be noticed by him, and it’s yet another thing to add to your resume. Schools will hire music teachers who have already had some experience.”

“No no no no no I can’t do this Hannie I—” Minseok fists Luhan’s shirt. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers after a pregnant silence.

“Neither can I, but looks like all your hard work and good grades have come in handy. He must’ve picked only the top few students. Use this tutoring thing to communicate with him, he’ll be able to get to know you. And it’s a paid job.”

With his heart thudding madly at the tips of his fingers, Minseok types out a short response, signing off with ‘6th year phD student Kim Minseok’, only taking a breath of air after pressing send.

 

It only takes Professor Jongdae two days to sort out timetables and have it all emailed to the tutors that have signed up for the job.

He sent each email individually, so Minseok nearly combusted on the spot when he saw ‘Hello Minseok’ at the top of the email from the professor. He had made sure that Minseok’s classes didn’t clash with the practicals he was meant to teach, and Minseok’s breath comes faster and faster as he reads down the email.

‘ _We will have a meeting the following week on Thursday to discuss the content to go over in the practical classes. It will be held in the meeting room on the first floor of the Music building at 2pm, I will see you there._ ’

“Fuck,” Minseok breathes, mind swimming with detailed visualisations of seeing Professor Jongdae closer than 50 meters, in a small room with only a maximum of 20 people. Thursday can’t come fast enough.

 

***

 

Thursday, 1:50 pm, and Minseok is still running from one end of the campus to the Music building.

He glances down at his watch, willing time to stop, and nearly barrels right into a group of international students, first-years who look like they’re lost. He really, _really_ wanted to get there at least 5 minutes early—tardiness shows none of his enthusiasm and focused attitude. But it looks like he’ll be lucky if he even gets there on time.

Two minutes past 2 pm and Minseok explodes into the meeting room. Professor Jongdae is there, looking up from his coffee cup, offering Minseok a small smile. If Minseok’s breath wasn’t already coming fast from the run, the small gesture would’ve stolen the air from his lungs.

“Don’t worry you’re not late. Take a seat, we’re just waiting a few more minutes for some more people before we start.”

Minseok quickly bows, tripping into a chair closest to him, depositing his bag on the floor and fishing out his water bottle and laptop.

Professor Jongdae is so, so attractive up close. Minseok’s eyes linger on the slope of his brows, the smooth curve of his cheekbones, the tilt of his lips that make it look like he’s constantly smiling, his long, dark lashes fluttering when he blinks—he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so, so beautiful.

And all of a sudden, Minseok’s greedy.

He came here just for the opportunity to look at the lecturer up close. You could never see him standing in the middle of a huge lecture theatre, and Minseok just wanted to see his face, hear his voice.

But that one smile the professor shot at him was enough of a taster. Minseok wants more. He wants Mr Kim to continue shooting smiles at him, he wants to make him laugh, he wants to be the face Mr Kim searches for in the rows and rows of seats before he begins a lecture. He wants his name to be the only thing that escapes Professor Jongdae’s slightly chapped lips in the silence of a dark room.

“So what you tutors will have to do is sit through my first-year music theory lectures or go through them in order to understand the content covered each week. You will be given set tasks based on that content to cover in your 2 hour practicals, in which you should encourage students to attempt the questions themselves, with tasks such as composition and arranging, and you are on stand-by if they happen to be stuck.”

The lecturer pauses, eyes scanning the faces of the tutors seated before him, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“We will hold meetings every fortnight to discuss lesson plans.”

Minseok’s scared, scared of fucking it all up, but he can deal with being scared to get what he wants.

A short (too short) 20 minutes later, Professor Jongdae dismisses them all, telling them to look over the content for the first week of practicals.

Minseok is sliding his laptop back into his bag when the professor walks up to his seat, a small, friendly smile curving his lips. Minseok’s eyes go wide, and he can only pray to whatever cupid is watching over him that his face isn’t going red.

“Hey, did you just have a class before this?” Professor Jongdae says, voice soft, and Minseok swallows hard, because Jongdae has always been speaking in a mic, or speaking to a class, and never in his life did Minseok ever imagine the beautiful man would talk directly to him, and no one else. “You know what, I’ll make sure to start maybe 10 minutes late in the future, so you can take your time getting here. Would that help a little?”

Minseok is most definitely flushing an embarrassing shade of red right from his ears—nearly as embarrassing as rushing into the meeting room earlier. “Yes, thank you Sir,” he manages to say, though his voice turned out breathier than he intended—he had been holding his breath unconsciously with how close Mr Kim is, how his voice sounded directly addressing him, how he looked at Minseok when he spoke. It’s all too much.

“That’s no problem at all,” the professor smiles charmingly again, moving away from Minseok a little to pick up his own things. Minseok forces himself to stop mentally screaming about the man’s pretty smile and focus on the conversation, because the professor is addressing him again. “What was your name?”

“Minseok,” Minseok blurts quickly. “Kim Minseok.”

“Oh, Minseok,” Mr Kim repeats, and it takes those two words for Minseok to be infinitely intrigued by the way his name sounded in Professor Jongdae’s beautifully melodious voice. Mr Kim even goes out of his way to quickly open the door for Minseok, as they are now the last to leave the meeting room.

He waits for Minseok to exit, who is completely and entirely flustered, before closing the meeting room door behind him.

“Well then, I’ll see you at this time in a fortnight, Minseok. Good luck with the class next week! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me via email.” Professor Jongdae smiles slightly, hand tucked in a trouser pocket. “See you then,” he says over his shoulder as Minseok watches him head further into the music building.

How is he supposed to wait another fortnight?

 

***

 

As it turns out, Minseok is teaching his practical on Tuesday with two more phD students, though they don’t mind him being quieter and less authoritative.

The other two tutors had given a brief introduction on the topic for the first-years, explaining the theory behind the practice they would be doing, and they’re nice enough to lead all the talking, because Minseok clearly wasn’t paying any attention when he listened to the recordings of Jongdae’s first-year music theory lectures the night before. He has even less idea of what they were meant to be doing than the students did.

Only when the students get to work Minseok begins walking around, helping out when he can.

It’s nearing the hour, and a handful of students have already left after completing all the set work. Minseok and the other tutors were simply standing in the centre of the room chatting, and that’s when Minseok sees Professor Jongdae stick his head in the room, door ajar.

Immediately he bows, and the other two catch on, bowing as well. The professor makes his way over to them, greeting them briefly—it’s probably just Minseok’s imagination, but he could swear Professor Jongdae’s eyes betray how he recognises Minseok from the other day.

“How’s it going?” Mr Kim asks, glancing around at the remaining students.

“Great, the students don’t seem to be struggling with the tasks on a whole.”

Minseok blinks up at the professor from under his lashes, watching him exchange a few words with the other two. He lets out an audible sigh when Professor Jongdae leaves after the last student has trickled out of the room.

This is going to be harder than he thought.

 

***

 

Minseok was bent over, explaining the notation on the computers in terms of music composing, and didn’t notice professor Jongdae popping into the practical session yet again—until he spoke just as Minseok straightened up.

“All going okay?” the professor lets out a small laugh seeing Minseok jump about a foot into the air, and Minseok could feel all the blood rushing into his face, making him dizzy so much so that he could only focus on Mr Kim’s face. He’s standing within an arm’s length of the professor, and he swallows down his instinctive response of taking a step back.

“Yes, all good,” Minseok smiles quickly.

“Great. Just to let you know, you should start taking the attendance from the second practical onwards, so today you should already have the roll.”

“Ah yes, I’ll do that. Thank you.” Minseok dips his head politely, feeling his heart thud in his throat when Professor Jongdae smiles at him again.

“No problem, Minseok.” There it is again. Minseok immediately perks up at the sound of his name, every single nerve seemingly alive.

Professor Jongdae has actually remembered his name—

“Have you… looked at the practical instructions for today’s class?”

“Sorry?” Minseok blinks, jostled out of his daydreams of the man calling his name.

Professor Jongdae smiles softly, glancing down at the paper Minseok is holding. “I was saying how it seems like you have printed out the instructions from last week, which aren’t applicable to today’s practical.”

“Oh.”

Professor Jongdae must have noticed the immediate drop in Minseok’s expression, because then his hand is on Minseok’s shoulder, and it sends jolts of electricity through his entire body. “That’s not a big deal, the main point for you as a tutor is just to help students with questions they have, and if that is related to last week, that’s fine too.”

“Right, I’ll make sure to prepare the right material for next week then,” Minseok forces out, smiling through the burning desire to tunnel down through the music building and into the ground and never be seen again.

 

Two days later and Minseok is still running to the tutor meeting with Professor Jongdae. He did promise to start 10 minutes late for Minseok, but he was hoping to get there early and sneak into the meeting room without being seen by the professor, the events from the Tuesday practical lesson still lingering in the front of his thoughts.

The world seems to be against him, because Professor Kim still looks towards the door when Minseok walks in, and he curses quietly under his breath. The professor shoots him a small smile, motioning silently for him to take a seat.

‘ _Fuck he saw me_ ,’ Minseok types quickly the moment he sat down.

‘ _Why are you complaining? He’s taken notice of you, he knows your name, and he knows when you enter the room. How’s that bad_?’ comes Luhan’s reply a few moments later.

Minseok had undoubtedly spilled all of his embarrassment when Professor Jongdae had to correct his mistake to Luhan the moment he stepped foot inside the dorm.

Minseok squirms a little in his seat, biting his lip as he pockets his phone. When he looks up, he's met with Professor Jongdae’s curious gaze fixed on him over the rim of his usual coffee cup. Minseok blushes to the roots of his hair.

The professor shoots him a small courteous smile yet again. “Okay, let's get started. The faster we start the sooner we're out of here yes?”

Minseok had been halfway through replying to a text from Luhan and nearly missed the question the professor threw out.

“What style is this?”

He’s met with silence from the tutors.

“You guys are phD students, this is a first year question,” Professor Jongdae laughs. “What style is it?”

“Baroque”, Minseok whispers under his breath. He notices the professor glancing his way and stutters out a louder response. “Baroque?”

“Thank you. We are going to be focusing on styles over certain time periods and how they are influenced by the world around the musician as well as the other arts of the time. I should've gotten you to sing it out,” he says to Minseok, corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

 _God please fucking no_ , Minseok prays silently.

“What time period was that?”

A stroke of sudden bravery, and Minseok pipes up, a mischievous grin on his lips. “1975 to present.”

To Minseok’s absolute surprise, the professor barks out a short, high-pitched laugh. “I hope you were joking.”

Minseok is nearly out the door when Professor Jongdae calls him back.

“You do know the time period for Baroque music don't you?”

“Isn't it 1600’s to 1750?” Minseok rattles off, smiling. “It was just a joke.”

“Ah that's good then haha I genuinely thought you weren't joking for a second there, had me concerned.”

Minseok giggles quietly, leaning against the doorframe with his eyes focused on the lecturer packing up his things.

This time, when they part ways outside the meeting room, Mr Kim spares him a cheery wave as he leaves.

 

 

“Hey. Anything I can help with?”

The girl points to her laptop screen. “Well we have the first report for Music due next week right?” Minseok nods. That's the report he and the other tutors will have to mark. “I know it's not really related to this practical, but I don't know how to figure out this note?”

“Oh damn is that a flat or…?” Minseok frowns, pressing the headphones to his ears.

Jongdae glances around, closing the door to the practice room behind him before he was approached by a female tutor telling him she's just done the attendance.

“Hey,” he calls out before she leaves to help a student. “Do you know where Minseok is?”

It takes Jongdae only a few more minutes before he spies the young man hunched over what seems to be a girl’s report on her laptop.

Minseok happened to look up and notice Jongdae. “Ah hello Professor,” he smiles kindly, bowing a little, and Professor Jongdae can't help but return the gesture. “Would you mind to have a quick look at this?”

Minseok watches him listen and replay the note. “I'm guessing it's an A flat? Or B? B most likely-- an A sounds like--” and Minseok was instantaneously floored the moment Professor Jongdae decided to belt out the note.

Minseok nods, adding his contribution by singing the A flat.

Professor Jongdae blinks silently for a few moments. “No-- no its higher than that.” and the professor sings a note, which Minseok follows up with another.

And then Minseok, with zero hesitation, lets out a perfectly pitched B, and Jongdae stops in disbelief.

It takes the professor a few moments before he turns back to the astounded student. “Yes it seems like that’s a B,” he murmurs, leaving Minseok to stand in the practice room, gradually turning a bright red.

The moment Professor Jongdae is done with the student, he turns to Minseok and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him out of the room.

Minseok had no time to internally combust over the feeling of the professor’s rough fingers on his skin—Professor Jongdae’s shutting the door of the practice room behind him.

“So. You just went all the way up to a B.”

Minseok’s entire body flushes. “Yes?”

“Where did you learn to do that? Do you go any higher?” the lecturer asks, leaning against the wall behind him, bright and attentive eyes fixated on Minseok. It’s only a simple conversation outside the practice room, but Minseok doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want the man’s eyes to leave his.

Minseok simply laughs bashfully, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging. “Honestly I don’t know, I don’t normally practice these types of things.”

“Neither do I,” Professor Jongdae agrees, chuckling. “I should see one day if I can top that.”

Minseok rolls his eyes playfully. “I’m betting you can.”

Professor Jongdae turns his body slightly to directly face Minseok, and either he stopped breathing at the attention focused solely on him or his heart skipped a beat and a half. “What are we betting on?”

Minseok swallows thickly, and hopes the professor didn’t see the movement of his adam’s apple. But he probably did. “Uh—coffee?” he stammers bashfully.

Another smile with crescent eyes wrinkled at the corner. “Deal.”

 

 

‘ _Luhan I had a high note battle with Professor Jongdae_ ’ Minseok’s fingers type out rapidly.

‘ _OMG WHO WON’_

_'me’_

‘ _LMAO ur kidding’_

_‘… no… I’m not… why else would I be freaking out’_

_‘HOLY SHIT HAHAHAHAH’_

 

***

 

 

“Professor?”

Professor Jongdae looks up, flashing a dazzling grin at Minseok. He was just packing up after the fortnightly meeting with the tutors as usual. It’s become somewhat a habit, for either one of them to wait for the other, chat for a short while, and leave the room together, and it’s these five minutes that keeps Minseok going through the weeks.

“Minseok! What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask you about what you said in the first year lecture this week. Is that expected of them for their first report?”

The lecturer shrugs, picking up his coffee mug with one hand and slightly adjusting his tie with the other.

The man doesn’t wear ties too often, but Minseok’s eyes don’t leave his neck when he does.

“I don’t think so, no. It’s more important to see how they formed their own conclusions and musical ideas based on their own compositions and analysis, and compare the quality of work between students rather than how strictly they adhere to a marking criteria, you know?”

“You’re right,” Minseok hums, nodding. “That’s a good point. Thank you, Professor.”

“Have you started marking them already? No way!” Professor Jongdae exclaims, eyes glittering and fixed on Minseok, who finds it difficult to look away.

“I’ve done one. I gave it 4.33 out of 10 for her _empty_ analysis.”

Minseok watches in satisfaction as the lecturer lets out a laugh that seems to come straight from his voice box.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Professor Jongdae sighs, a large smile turned in Minseok’s direction.

“Of course,” Minseok repeats, laughing. “I’ve only been taking a look at the ones that I’ve got, like you said, to get an idea for comparing standards between students.”

“Good work,” the professor hums appreciatively, before raising his eyes to look at Minseok again. “I’ll see you again around?”

The questioning tilt of his question has pulled up Minseok’s heart strings with it.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I’ll see you around Sir.”

 

 

 

Minseok gives a light tap on the wooden door, knuckles just above the large bronze lettering that spell out ‘STAFF ROOM’.

He could hear the all-too familiar high tone that the professor speaks in, and wipes his palms on his black jeans one last time before turning the knob.

Professor Jongdae swivels around in his chair at that moment, and Minseok’s grip on the door tightens a fraction.

“Hello Professor,” he smiles, bowing. “Did you receive my email?”

“Yes I was just expecting you.” Professor Jongdae smiles, the corners of his lips curving. “Do you want to sit down to chat?” His pretty, bright eyes catch on the stack of papers Minseok’s clutching to. “Ah you know what? Let’s talk over coffee. Do you like coffee?”

Minseok’s eyes fly wide, and just manages to stutter an affirmative response before the professor is sweeping out the door.

“Do you want to just have a seat at the coffee shop in campus? The weather is too good for us to be cooped up in my office talking about a report.”

Minseok turns, tempted to glue his eyes on the man striding beside him. Professor Jongdae’s black hair flies everywhere in the breeze and the sunlight catches on his eyelashes and cheekbones. The white long sleeve button-up he’s wearing is flowing a little bit, tucked into black pants, and Minseok nearly misses the professor’s questioning gaze on him with all his admiring stares.

“That sounds great, I don’t remember the last time I comfortably sat outside in the sun with a cup of coffee,” Minseok smiles wide.

 

They had chosen a table just outside the coffee shop in the direct sunlight, Minseok pulling out all the print outs of the student’s report he had wanted to discuss.

The way Professor Jongdae squints at the glaring white of the paper makes his eyebrows slant upwards more, and Minseok _can not. Stop. Staring._

By the time they’re both half way through their second cups of coffee, the paper was marked everywhere in orange pen.

“Why do you mark in orange?” Minseok asks randomly, the professor looking up at him.

“I think it’s not as harsh as red, but not as chill as green.” was professor Jongdae’s simple answer.

“But do you like oranges, professor?”

“I do,” he replies, laughing.

By the time Professor Jongdae pockets his orange pen, they’ve pretty much discussed the entire paper, and he’s essentially marked it for Minseok—what the student did well, what the student needs improvement on, everything is written in orange, in professor Jongdae’s handwriting.

“Thank you Professor, for doing my job,” Minseok chuckles, slipping the stack of papers into his bag.

“No problem at all! Now, 4.33/10 was it?”

It’s Minseok turn to burst out laughing.

“Ah also—just call me Jongdae.”

Minseok’s eyes snap up, blinking rapidly. Did he hear that right? He must’ve just been daydreaming again-- surely?

“Continually hearing you refer to me as ‘Professor Kim’ or ‘Professor Jongdae’ is getting a little redundant, don’t you think?”

“Y-yes,” Minseok stutters quickly, blinded by the sun making the man’s skin glow, blinded by the smile continually hanging on his lips, blinded by the sweet tone of his voice.

“Besides,” the professor starts, leaning back in his chair, coffee cup at his lips. “I doubt you’re much younger than me anyway?”

“I turned 24 this year,” Minseok trails off.

“Ah, I’m only older than you by about 6 years? I’m 30 this year.”

Minseok nearly spat out his coffee. A professor at such a young age is absolutely unbelievable. How much Jongdae is actually in his league is even more unbelievable.

 _If a 14 year old and 20 year old were dating, that’s completely different to a 24 year old and 30 year old_. Minseok's attention quickly snaps back to the professor, who addresses him again.

“You said you’re a 6th year phD student?” Minseok nods obediently, mind so chaotic he nearly missed the question. “Have you been continually studying music?”

“Ah no, I did a Bachelors of primary education first! Then I did a post-graduate degree in music, and now I’m here,” Minseok laughs shyly, shooting the man across him glances from under his eyelashes.

“Teaching?” Jongdae echoes, eyes wide. “I don’t come across many of those, at all. That’s cute, though,” Jongdae smiles sweetly. “You’d be great with kids.”

Minseok giggles, unable to stop smiling.

“So then are you thinking of being a music teacher?”

Minseok shrugs. “Perhaps. But I’ve always liked music.”

The smile Jongdae gives him heats up his face faster than the sun.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

 

 

There’s one thing that hasn’t stopped bothering Minseok the entire half an hour of the tutor meeting.

And it looks like it’s been bothering Jongdae too, because his favourite mug isn’t placed where he places it every time.

The amount of times Minseok has seen him instinctively reach for it—

“This can’t do,” was the first thing he said once the meeting was over, hitching his bag onto his back, striding across the room to Jongdae’s desk.

The professor looks up, surprised.

“You left your mug didn’t you? Come on, we’re getting coffee.”

And all of a sudden Jongdae looks a little bashful—a pleasant smile graces his lips, surprised, shy, and a little embarrassed all thrown in at once. And Minseok loves it.

“Professor, what’s your favourite coffee?” Minseok asks, peering up at the man as they wait in line. This time it’s not the same coffee shop as before—Jongdae wanted to try something new. But they agreed that they would go back to the first place if this one disappoints, and honestly Minseok would have never thought he would be going on coffee shop dates with the handsome lecturer—if he could call them coffee shop dates.

Jongdae scrunches his backwards-slanting eyebrows at him, lips jutting out. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Jongdae?”

“J-Jongdae,” Minseok gulps. “What’s your favourite coffee?”

Jongdae smiles this time, big and satisfied. “I like cappuccinos.” He glances at Minseok just as they reach the register.

“One regular iced americano, please.” Minseok chirps before turning to face Jongdae. “Americano, for me.”

Everything is different this time around.

They sit indoors, in a booth wedged in the corner. They don’t have a student’s report sitting demandingly between them—their hands are both on the table, each holding their respective coffees. Minseok eyes the distance between their knuckles.

Jongdae lifts his hand from the table, bringing the paper cup to his lips.

Minseok’s eyes roam over the professor’s long lashes, dark eyes, the moles dotting the side of his face. Cappuccino, just like him.

Not bitter, and yet not sweet. Not overly warm and affectionate, but takes time for the hint of chocolate to be recognised underneath all the coffee.

And yet he’s lovely enough to be generally well-liked.

Minseok admires Jongdae’s fingers, wrapped around the cup.

Jongdae is just the right amount of friendly and welcoming, but not too bubbly like a flat white, still professional and yet not too strict like a long black.

He’s a cappuccino, Minseok concludes, taking a long drink from his own cup upon realising Jongdae’s pretty eyes scrutinising him as well.

“They say you are what you eat,” Minseok pipes up. “You are perfectly a cappuccino.”

“I am?” Jongdae chuckles, eyebrows raised. “In what way?"

_In every way._

_In every, perfect way._

“You’re neutral,” Minseok says, taking another sip. “You’re not too much of anything, so you’re not overwhelming sweet, or overwhelming bitter. You’re a good middle-ground, and that must be what makes you so... Easy to get along with?"

Minseok catches Jongdae’s eyes fixed intensely on him, and nearly stabs himself with the straw in his hurry to preoccupy himself.

“To be completely honest, I thought you’d be more of a… babychino?”

Minseok laughs loudly, feigning hurt at Jongdae who wears an equally big smile on his face.

“Honestly, I’m a bit of a… coffee connoisseur? I’m a bit obsessed with coffee,” Minseok admits quietly.

“Ah, really?? Do you brew your own coffee and all that?” Jongdae gapes, sitting forward in his seat, hands a millimetre from sliding against Minseok’s.

“Yeah, I do all that at home. I used to want to be a barista,” he giggles.

“You’re everything all at once,” Jongdae says suddenly, face tilted to gauge Minseok. “Teaching, barista, and that B note—” Minseok laughs again. “I’m not letting that go anytime soon! Is there anything else you can do? Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

The next half an hour, the coffee house is filled with Jongdae’s loud exclaims when Minseok told him about his teenage passion for soccer.

“Don’t tell me you’re a good cook too?” Jongdae says against his coffee cup, gasping exaggeratedly when Minseok nods gravely.

“Aren’t I just perfect?” Minseok giggles.

“Indeed. How could you be so perfect?”

All of a sudden Minseok’s heart thumps, and it’s so jarring to its usual rhythm that Minseok is nearly convinced his heart hasn’t been beating before this point.

No, Minseok thinks, heat rising rapidly to his face yet again. This is the moment I want to replay forever.

 

 

***

 

 

Jongdae peers into the practice room, a small smile on his lips once he notices Minseok explaining something on the computer screen to a student.

“Here.”

Minseok spins around, nearly knocking into Jongdae’s outstretched hand holding a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” he murmurs breathlessly, nearly dropping the iced americano when his fingertips lightly graze Jongdae’s hand. “How did you remember?”

“The iced americano?” Jongdae shrugs. “It’s hard to forget.”

 

 

 

The practical next week Jongdae comes in again, though with generic americanos for the other tutors as well. But Minseok most definitely isn’t imagining it when he notices that only his cup has his name scribbled on it.

And the week after—and the week after.

Jongdae’s favourite mug hasn’t made an appearance in weeks during tutor meetings. Instead, they bicker on the way out of the Music building over which coffee shop to sit in for the afternoon.

Jongdae’s cheering, pulling Minseok along to the very first coffee house they sat in together, and instead of sitting on the table, they take their respective coffees and sit on the grassy patches in the middle of campus, watching students hurry past to their classes.

With a content sigh, Minseok plops down on his back on the grass, an arm over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Looking up, Jongdae is peering down at him with the sun shining behind him, giving him a halo of light.

Minseok looks at Jongdae’s deep brown irises, noting the hairs that fall into his eyes, noting his long eyelashes fluttering against the bright sun.

With a quiet cough he quickly looks away, realising that the closer he grows towards Jongdae, the more rash he seems to be, and the longer he seems to stare.

Jongdae smiles, looking at how the sun makes Minseok’s skin gleam like fine China, looking at the strands of his hazel brown hair flopping against the grass, looking at the rise and fall of his chest.

With a quiet smile Jongdae turns to take another sip of his coffee.

 

***

 

 

Somehow, Thursday afternoon coffee (dates?) after the tutor meeting has become weekly rather than fortnightly—Minseok drops into the lecture Jongdae gives just before his free time slot, and they walk together to the coffee shop.

"What did you originally want to do? I’m pretty sure most kids don’t grow up wanting to be university lecturers.”

“I wanted to be an idol in high school, actually!” Jongdae laughs heartily.

“You’re certainly skilled enough as a vocalist,” Minseok adds nonchalantly. “You’re handsome, good at singing, and friendly and nice. The only thing you need is dance—can you dance, Mr Kim Jongdae-ssi?”

“I’m a dancing machine, what are you talking about?” Jongdae cries, lightly elbowing Minseok as they near the café.

After they’re both settled in their usual spot on the grass with their coffees, Jongdae decides to speak up again.

“I was an orchestral singer for a while actually, after graduating my studies in music. My mom’s a soprano, so naturally I wanted to do what she did.”

“You studied classical music then?”

“Yeah, I would’ve had to, or I would’ve lost my voice,” Jongdae laughs. “That stuff is no joke.”

Minseok’s eyes stray to Jongdae’s neck, tracing the line of every visible vein, distracted by the movement of Jongdae’s very predominant adam's apple everytime he swallowed.

“You have an amazing voice though,” Minseok says.

He’s snatched by the tell-tale kitten-like curving of Jongdae’s lips, and then when Jongdae’s tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips. Then Jongdae swallows, and his adam's apple steal his attention again, and it’s—it’s all too much. But Minseok still loves it.

It’s when he realises he can count the number of lower lashes on Jongdae’s left eye that it clicks— _maybe I’m way too close_ —and Minseok takes a flying leap back, face an embarrassing bright red.

Jongdae is left cackling on the grass as Minseok makes a speedy escape, not forgetting to take his americano with him, face still terribly heated. He stares in the direction Minseok had disappeared in, a cattish smile slowly curving his lips.

 

 

 

“LUHAN IF I TOLD YOU I NEARLY KISSED JONGDAE WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME?”

“Wait you’re just calling him Jongdae now??” Luhan shouts from the bathroom.

“Yes he said—BUT NO THAT’S NOT THE POINT LUHAN THE POINT IS I NEARLY KISSED JONGDAE I WANT TO DIE.”

Luhan strolls out of the bathroom with a toothbrush wedged between his teeth. “What was his response?”

Minseok stops freaking out for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Like did he move away or…?”

“No,” Minseok frowns. “He didn’t move at all, I moved away.”

“There ya go then,” Luhan states definitively, spitting tooth paste everywhere as he speaks. “You should go for it, he definitely seems okay with it based on this.”

“He’s going to think I’m weird now.”

“No he’s not, Jesus Christ,” Luhan groans. “I’m betting he might even want to kiss you as well.”

“But why.”

“How am I supposed to know?” At that, Minseok kicks Luhan’s butt back into the bathroom.

He re-emerges in a minute, rid of the toothbrush and tooth paste.

“But honestly, from this it doesn’t sound like he was repulsed or weirded out at all. If he didn’t move at all, then perhaps he even wanted it too. I’m betting on it.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Minseok quickly lifts his drink bottle to his lips, chugging down half the bottle.

Jongdae’s t-shirt looks two sizes too small, showing off his shoulders and broad chest, and even though the skinny jeans didn’t make a comeback, the sleeves of the shirt hug his biceps ridiculously tightly.

Minseok isn’t sure if Jongdae thinks that’s appropriate to wear as a university professor. _And_ he’s wearing a tie.

Jongdae had greeted him normally when he entered the meeting room, but as Minseok’s eyes linger on the smooth curves of Jongdae’s biceps, he notices the man’s eyes on him and he _knows_ he’s doing this purposefully.

Jongdae isn’t violating any dress code rule, and yet Minseok only has a quarter of his previously full bottle left.

Minseok is hardly listening to what the tutors need to prepare for the next practical class—his eyes are on the way Jongdae’s fingers come up to his tie and slightly tug on it.

Minseok quickly shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other.

He doesn’t understand how Jongdae is so casually talking through the tutor meeting. He occasionally gives Minseok’s side of the room a swift glance, though that isn’t anything out of the ordinary. And that frustrates him.

That frustrates Minseok, because Jongdae is literally doing nothing special, but why does it turn him on regardless?

As the rest of the tutors leave, Minseok packs up his things as usual, keeping an eye on the professor.

He casually walks up to him, pulling the door of the meeting room shut in one swift move. And he sees how Jongdae’s eyes follow that action.

He doesn’t need to cross the entire room to reach him—Jongdae meets him half-way, roughly shoving Minseok against the shut door of the room, hands on Minseok’s shoulders.

It takes less than a heartbeat for Minseok to grab hold of the silk tie around Jongdae’s neck and give a rough tug, pulling his head down to meet his lips.

Immediately Jongdae’s hands travel downwards, gripping Minseok’s hips, while Minseok fists his hands into Jongdae’s pretty black hair, the blood throughout his entire body boiling the moment their lips touched.

It’s the explosion of sweetness that’s so satisfying when you get something you’ve wanted for so, so long—the way Jongdae’s lips move against his goes above and beyond any fantasies he could’ve possibly had, especially when the man presses his body even closer, squishing Minseok against the door, so their hips touched, so Jongdae’s thigh is nestled perfectly between Minseok’s legs.

However Jongdae doesn’t kiss like a starved wolf—Jongdae kisses like he misses Minseok in the few days he hasn’t seen him. Jongdae, with the quick, desperate movements of his lips, kisses like he’s been missing this for far longer than a few days.

Jongdae kisses like he wants to inhale him like a starved animal, but knows he needs to savour it, as if unsure if he’ll ever get the chance again.

Minseok keens loudly into his mouth, returning all the desperation, all the want he’s been harbouring for far, far too long. Though Jongdae places a gentle hand on Minseok’s jawline as a warning, Minseok gives a small roll of his hips against Jongdae’s, and their lips separate momentarily to both groan.

Minseok takes this opportunity to shove Jongdae away by the chest, though his aching dick is begging him not to.

“What the fuck,” he hears Jongdae splutter, the professor watching as Minseok grabs all his things and heads out the door, shooting Jongdae a small smile before walking out.

As Minseok finishes himself off in yet another bathroom stall, whispers of Jongdae’s name muffled into his sleeve, he wonders how Jongdae’s dealing with the hard on Minseok left him with.

And for the first time ever, Minseok allows himself to dream about how he might have affected the lecturer enough for him to swear, so uncharacteristic of the prim and proper man.

 

***

 

“Hey, how’s everyone going? You should have finished marking the report by now, yes?”

Minseok looks up upon hearing Jongdae’s voice. It’s only been a few days since Thursday, the last tutor meeting, and Jongdae’s here to check up on their practical class yet again.

The man isn’t wearing anything like last time, only a simple button-up tucked into black jeans again, but when he looks at Minseok from across the room, his gaze on him still jolts all of Minseok’s internal organs into mush.

“Ah Minseok,” Jongdae calls, a sweet smile on his lips. “Could you step out for a moment please? I need a word with you.”

Minseok strides past the baffled looks of the other two tutors, letting Jongdae hold the door for him, and following Jongdae into a corner a few meters down the corridor.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Professor?”

In two long strides Jongdae has Minseok cornered against the wall again.

“What happened last time?” Jongdae says immediately.

“Nothing?” Minseok shrugs, looking Jongdae in the eyes.

“Nothing?” he echoes, stepping closer yet again.

Minseok wants Jongdae’s leg between his thighs again so badly, but no, he’s stubborn enough to stay still and wait for it to come to him, because with the way Jongdae advances, he probably doesn’t need to wait very long for it.

“Then will it be nothing again, this time?”

And all of a sudden, Jongdae’s voice sounds so unsure—so uncertain, Minseok immediately reaches out to pull Jongdae in by the collar, allowing their lips to crash together again.

“Perhaps not,” he breathes against Jongdae’s lips. “Not this time.”

Jongdae’s sturdy arms come to wrap around his torso, tilting his face to lick into Minseok’s mouth.

This time, Jongdae is just as gentle as he was last time, caressing and soft, but slower—so much so that Minseok felt like it shatters the mood when he grinds down on Jongdae’s thigh.

But no—the door of the practice room opens, revealing a few female students possibly heading to the bathroom.

Although they head in the opposite direction to their hide out, they immediately jump away from each other, hands still itching to explore and adrenaline running high. Minseok gives them a moment’s pause before motioning to Jongdae, and heading back into the practice room.

“Minseok,” Jongdae calls quietly, before he heads off towards the staff room. “Come up to my office after the class.”

 

 

 

Minseok had boldly strode into the staffroom, watching Jongdae swivel around in his chair. Without warning, he sits himself in Jongdae’s lap, straddling him, thighs spread and hands in Jongdae’s hair.

The professor lets out a small sigh before diving in to continue where they left off, but this time his kisses are deep. It seems like Jongdae can’t quite lose the gentleness to his touch, but this time he kisses harder, a fraction more demanding, stealing the breath right from Minseok’s lungs and all he can do is press up tighter against Jongdae’s torso.

With one hand on Minseok’s thigh and one hand on the back of Minseok’s neck, Jongdae slowly pulls himself away from Minseok’s lips, navigating his way to Minseok’s jawline. This time he doesn’t try to shush him, but suck harder at his neck, collar bone and jaw as Minseok’s groans grow louder and louder.

When Jongdae leans back to admire his work of art Minseok can’t help but admire the way Jongdae's marks are branded against his pale skin as well.

“Ah,” Jongdae suddenly says, turning around the best he can with Minseok sitting on his legs. “I got you coffee.” Minseok smiles warmly at how Jongdae’s grinning like he’s proud of himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

 

***

 

 

“Are you dating him?”

“Who? Jongdae?”

Luhan rolls his eyes. “Whatever you like to call him. Are you dating?”

It’s been a week or two of on-going coffee meetups, or the occasional make-out sessions; nothing more, nothing less.

Minseok frowns.

“I don’t know, am I?”

Luhan scoffs. “He hasn’t made it official or anything? Because you’re always coming back covered in hickeys, and if he doesn’t want to date you, then honestly that’s just unfair on you.”

Minseok gives this more thought than necessary, perhaps.

Jongdae had sneaked his number into Minseok’s phone, making arranging for coffee a much easier feat.

Minseok looks up to see Jongdae jogging towards him to where he’s waiting outside the Music building, a small smile on his pretty face.

“Sorry! Did you wait long?”

Minseok offers him a smile of his own. “Not at all.”

Minseok watches their feet as they head towards the coffee shop, their favourite one, how Jongdae’s strides are long and Minseok’s steps smaller, and yet they somehow step in time with each other without the need of a metronome.

“I like you, Professor.”

Jongdae’s steps stop abruptly, turning to stare at Minseok.

He raises his eyes from the ground, daring to look directly at Jongdae’s wide eyes and parted lips.

“I like you, Jongdae. Perhaps more than that.”

He hasn’t practiced this, and his heart thuds far too loud he could barely hear what he’s saying, so at this point it’s all just rushing out of his mouth with barely any filter and he’s really just praying it’s not coming out really weird. And yet Minseok still loves this feeling, the feeling of intense dizziness you get when you look at a drop far below you.

“Perhaps I’m in love with you,” Minseok smiles now, eyes still on Jongdae’s facial features, the eyes, nose, lips, moles, eyebrows that he adores so much. “Perhaps I’m obsessed with you.” He shrugs. “None of it matters when I’m with you, because you make me so, _so_ happy. And I’m sorry I’m potentially ruining this by letting it ou—"

He breaks off when Jongdae steps drastically closer, closing the gap between them with a firm hand on his waist and eyes searching his.

“You make it so hard not to be obsessed with _you_ ,” Jongdae breathes, and the entire world stops spinning.

The dizzying feeling of falling down the steep drop returns when Jongdae places another hand on Minseok’s cheek.

“I always wonder why you make _me_ so happy, why I want to see you again five minutes after parting ways, why I like Tuesdays and Thursdays so much.” Jongdae quickly shakes his head. “I like you, Minseok. Perhaps more than that.”

Minseok wants to cry. He smiles instead, wide and overjoyed, letting his cheeks heat up under Jongdae’s palm. Jongdae steps closer, enveloping Minseok in his thick, strong arms and burying his face in Minseok’s neck. Minseok winds his own arms around Jongdae’s waist, closing his eyes and inhaling all of Jongdae’s surprisingly manly scent.

“Date me?” Jongdae whispers against Minseok’s skin.

He slowly pulls back, letting Minseok’s gaze run through Jongdae’s hesitant eyes, lips curled up hopefully at the corners.

“Date me,” he repeats, this time voice stronger, less uncertain and more sure of himself. “Date me, let me be more obsessed with you than I already am.” Jongdae presses his forehead to Minseok’s. “Let me love you,” Jongdae mouths against Minseok’s lips before quickly leaning in.

If Minseok was nervous that they’re standing just outside the Music building, it all melts away the moment Jongdae presses his lips against his. Jongdae was probably seen by passing students who recognised him as the music lecturer but when he slowly shifts against Minseok’s lips, neither of them could care.

This time, Jongdae kisses ever so slowly; Jongdae kisses him long and sweet, with tenderness and passion somehow all at once.

This time, Jongdae kisses like he’s in love and Minseok loves every second of it.

 

 

They sit in the corner of the coffee shop, but this time there’s no table between them. Minseok sits right next to Jongdae, their thighs just touching, knuckles grazing each other’s with both their hands holding their coffee cups on the table.

Minseok doesn’t hide the shy looks he sends Jongdae’s way, and the latter laughs cheerily every time. Minseok leans forward like what they do in dramas, slanting his lips over the foam on Jongdae’s lips.

They both laugh when he pulls away. And when Jongdae places a hand on Minseok’s thigh before taking Minseok’s lips in a longer-lasting kiss, they share a look before heading out of the café.

 

 

In one quick move Jongdae pins Minseok by the wrists to the door of the apartment the moment Minseok locked the door.

He takes his time kissing him, but his fingers work nimbly with the buttons on Minseok’s shirt. Without warning, Minseok wraps his thighs around Jongdae’s hips, arms around his neck—Jongdae’s hands fly to his thighs to support his weight, and without ever detaching his mouth from Minseok’s lips, he shuffles to Minseok’s bedroom, kicking the door shut with a slam behind him.

 

 

***

 

 

Luhan feels the buzz of his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and fishes it out.

_Sorry Lu, don’t come home tonight._

“What the fuck,” Luhan says outloud. “I—am I—was I just sexiled?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am the most musically uneducated person you'll ever meet so I'm sorry if I got any details wrong!! I had to look things up, but I had absolutely no idea with like the notes and stuff please correct me if you know something's not right!
> 
> 4:33 joke: John Cage's 4'33'' is a performance where nothing happened and it's just all silence for 4 minutes and 33
> 
> Title: lyrics from Love Blossom by Kwill
> 
>  
> 
> Talk to me on social media (pls):  
> IG: @djjdkim  
> Tumblr: @djjdkim  
> If you want writing prompts for EXO: @xoxoprompts  
> Twitter (for writing updates): @djjdkim


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